Painful Blessings
by Lightningwolf325
Summary: For AspergianStoryteller's challengePossessed!Quirell had Harry at his mercy in the forest and forces unicorn blood on him. When Harry's memory of the event returns about two years later, will it turn out to be a blessing or a curse? Or are both possible?


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters, places, franchises, etc.

**Prompt**: _Blood of the Innocent _challenge by **AspergianStoryteller**. This prologue is a rewrite of the prologue provided by **AspergianStoryteller**, with some stuff added by me for the purposes of my plot. Credit for this excellent idea should go to **AspergianStoryteller**. I pray that you get the point, now that I've said the name three times.

**Summary**: Possessed!Quirrel had Harry at his mercy for a mere few minutes; will the blood of such a pure being harm one who was forced to drink it? Or will Harry have to live with yet more consequences of Voldemort's actions? Suffering amnesia from the event, Harry will have to find out without any recollection of what happened—for now. But we all must remember, both cures and diseases can lie dormant for years…

**Rating**: T

**Genre**: Adventure (for now; if there is anything else suitable as the story progresses this will be changed)

**Warnings**: There may be some fairly descriptive violence scenes later on; I'm not decided on that yet.

Harry stumbled through the forest, Draco and Fang in his wake. He could have sworn that the ancient lantern he held was at least half his weight, and carrying it while navigating around roots and stumps was dangerous work. Naturally, his upbringing with the Dursleys combined with genetics made him rather scrawny, but he couldn't expect the Malfoy heir to do any more menial labour than he was already. He suppressed a snort; Malfoy had been doing nothing but complaining since Hagrid had made them partners. The only solace he found was the tinge of fear that was constantly colouring the edge of his rival's obnoxiously haughty voice.

He had never been afraid of the dark; his constant exposure at the Dursleys allowed that much. It was different from his claustrophobia—in fact, the darkness had made his time in the cupboard under the stairs far more bearable. It let him close his eyes, pretend that the walls weren't so close and the door wasn't locked.

Now, however, it wasn't the dark nor small spaces that made him anxious. No, for the creatures that lurked in the forest were far more horrible than the darkness that encased him like a blanket. He had long since tuned Malfoy out, not wanting to hear anymore horror stories of the werewolves that supposedly inhabited the forest. Every so often he would look up fervently, as though checking to see of the phase of the moon had changed in that short time. But it remained constant, a crescent hanging over the thick canopy and casting dappled shadows across the earthy floor.

As the odd trio came upon a moonlit clearing, a flash of white caught Harry's eye. He held out his arm, stopping Draco cold. Fang shrunk back, whimpering quietly in fear. There before them was a terrible sight.

The dead unicorn lay sprawled across the forest floor, pearly mane splayed out, catching the moonlight. Its legs were at odd angles, cuts marring the previously flawless appendages. Silvery blood wept from them, catching and refracting the light in mesmerizing patterns that would have been beautiful had the circumstances been different. It was beautiful, but a terrible sadness hung in the air, captured by the trees, the broken creature, and even the boys themselves. For one glance at Draco Malfoy in that single moment would dispel any rumours of the child lacking a heart; his pain at the sight was evident in his usually carefully sculpted face, void of its usual sneer.

Time stood still, no movements, no breathing, not a sound breaking through the grief-filled silence. There was no meaning to any perceived movements in the moon, and they were too far from the other group for any communication that didn't involve magic…

Then the rustle of leaves permeated the clearing…

A slithering sound, like that of a snake.

Or a cloak…

And that was what it was. A cloaked figure, walking swiftly from the shadows, toward the unicorn. The boys stood, frozen, with Fang's whimpers getting progressively louder. The figure knelt, head lowered before the devastating sight. Harry could see part of the figure's face—the lips encased a wound, sucking the silver blood from the wound. A prickling in his scar began to make itself known.

The meaning of time returned and the eerie calm was broken by a scream that burst from his blonde companion. The other boy fled, Fang bounding rapidly behind. But Harry was unable to move for fear…the burning in his scar was increasing exponentially as the hooded figure became aware of his presence. It began to nearly glide toward him. Adrenaline shot through Harry's body, returning feeling to his legs and he tried to run, but it was too late. Far too late.

The creature—for there was no way that it could be human, all physical similarities aside—raised a blood-drenched hand. Harry felt himself fly backward, stars bursting into sight as his head, along with the rest of his body, collided with a tree. He was held to it as though by an invisible force as the creature crept closer and closer. The pain in his scar was building, coming to a head but he couldn't scream…he couldn't find his voice…

The figure was right in front of him now, and he could see under its hood. The face looked familiar, somehow, but through the haze of pain he couldn't place it. The eyes were glazed, as though the being weren't in control…a sheen of scarlet covered them…

A clean hand caressed his cheek in an almost loving fashion, trailing from his temple downward before prying gently at his jaw. Its blood-coated companion reached up, playing its way through Harry's lips and covering his tongue in the silvery substance. It was smooth, tingling with an unknown power. A thick, savory flavor filled his mouth, meaty and salty yet sweet at the same time. Tears sprung from his eyes, products of both the immense pain in his scar and the thought of where the blood had come from. The now clean fingers were removed as the other hand reached down and massaged Harry's throat, stimulating swallowing.

Once the creature was satisfied it backed away, a cold smirk adorning the vague face. It raised its hand again, hissing rising from its throat…it was then Harry knew: he was about to die.

The sound of hooves echoed around the forest. Something jumped through the bushes and trees, soaring over the traumatized boy toward the intruder. The tingling of the unicorn blood made its way in his body, saturating his organs with its power. It crept through his arteries and veins, sapping the energy from his muscles before finally settling in his heart. In the whir of action, Harry felt his legs give way and he sunk down into nothingness.

He came to just in time to see the centaur drive off whatever had been drinking the unicorn's blood. There was a pounding in his head, as though he had hit it very hard on something very solid. He screwed up his eyes, trying to recall what had happened. He had come into the forest for detention…Malfoy had messed around with Neville…the figure had been drinking the unicorn's blood, sending Draco and Fang running. He could vaguely remember the creature advancing on him, but then there was nothing. Blank.

The centaur came to him, introducing himself as Firenze. Urging Harry onto his back, he explained (albeit rather cryptically) about Voldemort and the horrific effects of unicorn's blood. He led Harry to the conclusion about Snape and the Philosopher's Stone before leaving him with Hagrid.

Harry explained what he could remember to his friends once he and Hermione had returned to the common room, omitting his loss of consciousness. Of course, he pondered, there could be memory loss, but that was highly unlikely. He had simply passed out as Voldemort advanced on him. Nothing terribly dreadful, if you ignored the idea of a supposedly dead terrorist trying to kill you for the second time in your short life.

At last the trio stopped their hopeless speculating in favour of bed. Harry changed before stretching, yawning, and crawling under the covers. He felt an odd tremor pass down his spine, as though from excitement or fear. He shook off the seemingly misplaced emotion, turning over and sinking into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

He was still alive.

He had no idea what had happened to him that night. The innocent blood lay dormant in his heart, waiting—for revenge or not, it was not clear.

But all Harry knew was that, for some unfathomable reason, he now feared darkness.

And he wouldn't find out why for several years to come.

**A/N**: So, this isn't going to take over for my other stories. It was just…I was browsing ffn and I found the challenge and I knew the plot wouldn't leave me alone. Not to mention that I needed something a little more…free to work on. LtL and Firemark have the constraints of two fandoms each, you can only go so far with a reading the books story, and you have to be careful with angst stories so you don't do too much or too little. And my original fiction book is a world I'm creating, so it's _so_ open-ended as I control everything. This has the general outline set by JKR and the prompt by **AspergianStoryteller**. Therefore there are rules, but they're not constricting and I can move around freely within them. I hope that makes sense, I just need something like this right now. Also, this _will not_ be Super!Harry. This is partly one of the guidelines set by **AspergianStoryteller **(who, by the way, has several amazing stories that you should check out if you haven't already), but I also dislike Super!Harry stories. It just kind of takes away the point of antagonists and conflict and stuff. Anyway, any future chapters should be longer. Please review, but no flames. Thank you!


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